by Gray, Meg
Seth gave her a wink and shrugged as he walked out the door.
It was raining when Emma stepped from the apartment building. She started to reach for her umbrella when she remembered the fate it suffered last night and wondered what became of it. She flipped up the hood of her bright red raincoat and started her walk. It was casual Friday at Fitzpatrick, so today Emma wore jeans, the school’s logoed sweatshirt and tennis shoes.
Emma arrived later than usual this morning and unlocked the door to the classroom as the students began to arrive. She threw her coat over the back of her chair behind the desk and dropped her bag into the seat. The children created quite a stir and she reminded them about using “inside voices” while she greeted each of them.
Just before the bell rang, Brayden walked through the door with an actual bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Emma, so focused on his smile, hardly noticed the black umbrella he toted.
“This is for you,” he said and proudly presented the umbrella to her.
“For me?” She took it by the leather handle and released the strap. The letters of the alphabet, looking as if they’d been scrawled by a child’s hand, created a border around the edge of the umbrella. She noticed that the tip had a two-inch point. It would put up a much better defense than her last umbrella.
“Well, thank you Brayden,” she said and smiled down at him. “Did you pick it out?”
“No,” he replied. “My dad did, but he said I could give it to you.”
* * *
Emma got through her day by suppressing the memories of the attack from the night before and put all of her energy into staying engaged and busy with her students. Her quiet evening at home with Seth dangled in front of her like a carrot. When she left school that afternoon, clouds covered the sun and turned the sky a murky gray. She clutched her new umbrella in front of her as she approached the corner of the schoolyard where she’d been pushed to the pavement less than twenty-four hours ago. A purple ballpoint pen, the one she used for scoring her students’ work, was tucked under the blades of grass lining the pavement. She left it there and hurried away from the place that made her feel physically ill.
Inside the apartment, she propped the umbrella in the corner by the door, sank into the couch and leaned onto a pillow to rest her eyes for a moment.
The sound of the door opening awakened her and she ran her fingers through her pressed hair, smiling at Seth when he walked into the living room.
“Hey,” he said, tossing his keys on the table and sat next to her on the couch. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual carefree smile. He looked a little nervous.
“Is everything okay?” Emma asked.
“Yeah.”
“So did Stacy bite your head off about tonight?”
“Actually,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t have a chance to call her, my day got really busy.”
“Oh, well. We can still probably get out of it,” Emma said. “Or we can go, if you want to,” Emma added slowly when she saw how Seth watched her. She thought that maybe he changed his mind.
“Well, the thing is,” Seth started to explain. Slowly a nervous smile started to play on his lips. “Kelly’s been in Chicago this week and was supposed to fly home today, but that plan has changed.”
Emma nodded, listening. “Okay, how?”
“Well, Kelly was able to swing an overnight layover in Portland. Tonight.” A glimmer of excitement sparked in his eyes.
“Oh,” Emma said, feeling a shock of disappointment that her plans with Seth had changed, and then the lightning bolt struck. “Ooooh. An overnight layover, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, breaking into a full grin and nodding.
“Say no more,” Emma said and jumped from the couch. “I’m out of here. I’ll crash with Stacy tonight and you two lovebirds can have the place to yourselves.” She started down the hall to her bedroom and Seth followed.
“Em, you don’t have to go really. I know you’re probably not up for going out tonight and we’d made other plans. So, you can stay and hang out with us if you want?” He sounded genuinely contrite, but one look at his smitten face told Emma if she stayed she’d be the third wheel and sleeping with her head buried under her pillow to mask the sounds coming from behind Seth’s closed door. No thank you.
“Hmmm?” Emma said as she pretended to consider his offer. “Tempting, but no. Now, go call me a cab while I pack.”
“Thanks Em,” he said practically skipping down the hall. “You’re the best.”
Damn right I am, she thought to herself.
Chapter Seven
Stacy moved surprisingly fast for a girl wearing three inch heels. Emma wobbled over another crack in the sidewalk and wondered how Stacy could keep herself upright on those stilts. The wind blew, adding an extra bite to the evening air. Emma crossed her arms, pulling her black sweater closed, clutch bag held tightly beneath one arm. The short black minidress Stacy talked her into buying and wearing tonight was riding up again. She tugged it down, but it didn’t work. With every gigantic step she took, trying to catch up to Stacy, the dress kept inching up. She should have worn the other dress she had tucked in her closet. The one with a longer and flowing skirt, but Stacy insisted this was the one that would turn heads. Right now Emma didn’t want to turn heads, she wanted to be out of the cold and dark.
At the intersection, Stacy stopped allowing Emma the chance to catch up, but then her friend crossed the street against the red. Emma hesitated and then chased after her. The oncoming traffic was forced to slow and one angry driver blasted a horn. Stacy waved her beaded clutch that matched the beading around the halter straps of her own black minidress, as she stepped to the safety of the sidewalk.
Emma was relieved when they reached the office building, a skyrocketing tower, in the heart of downtown. The lobby offered a refuge from the sharp, cold evening air. Their heels clicked along the travertine floor as they hurried to the bank of elevators. Stacy pushed the button and they waited.
Emma took this moment to catch her breath and search her clutch for a tissue. The sting from the cold night air had caused her nose to run and her eyes to water.
She rifled around, but found nothing of use inside her little bag. She could ask Stacy, but Emma already knew the contents of her bag, she watched her pack it back at the apartment—credit card, id, a tube of black cherry lipstick and two condoms. The sign for the restroom caught her eye as the elevator pinged, announcing its arrival. She followed Stacy and hoped her leaky eyes and nose stopped before they arrived at the party.
“Aren’t you excited?” Stacy asked, pressing the button for the top floor.
“Oh, yeah,” Emma said with a sniff and then dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked down at her friend who bubbled with excitement. With high heels on, Stacy only stood as tall as Emma’s shoulder. “It should be fun.”
“There should be lots of guys here tonight. James from my office is bringing a guy and he sounds perfect for you, but I also think you might like Abe, he’s a new agent in the office.”
Emma shifted her weight. These heels were already making her feet ache.
The elevator paused at the twelfth floor, home to the offices of Portland City Real Estate, where two of Stacy’s colleagues joined them. Emma caught a glimpse of her reflection in the wall mirror before the shiny stainless steel doors closed for their ascent to the top floor.
Her cheeks were rosy red and the tight bun she’d been wearing in her hair had slipped down to her neck, leaving the hair above her ears slack. She looked like a mushroom. Glancing over at Stacy, engrossed in conversation with the two other women, she noticed that not a single hair was out of place in her high, wrapped ponytail. There wasn’t even a hint of color on Stacy’s olive toned cheeks and the layers of eye makeup she applied and smudged over her flat eyelids to give them a smoky look were still perfectly in place. Even their two new companions were perfectly intact—every strand of hair, every bit of makeu
p was flawless. The cleavage Emma had gained from the help of her new push-up bra paled in comparison to the blond wearing the zebra-striped sheath. Emma felt like a Raggedy Ann doll accidently mixed in with the Barbies. What was she doing here?
She dabbed again at her nose and swiped at her eyes, she was leaking like a faucet. She reached for the railing as the elevator lurched to a stop at the eighteenth floor. The doors slid open and revealed three people waiting for the elevator. A man in a suit, a little taller than Emma, wearing wire rimmed glasses. A blond woman with long manicured nails, also wearing a suit, but with a low cut shirt under the blazer, again putting Emma’s meager cleavage to shame. The last of the trio was a tall man talking on his cell phone in a hushed voice with his back to the elevator. The man in the glasses stepped into the gap that had formed between Emma and Stacy and the woman followed him and reached in front of Emma to press a button, holding the door open.
“Marcus,” the woman said. “We need to go.”
The man finished his call and turned to get in the elevator. Emma’s heart stopped the moment she recognized him. His eyes met hers as he stepped inside. The three new occupants surrounded her, boxing her into the corner. Emma saw confusion flash across Mr. Lewis’s face before he turned around and the doors closed.
Silently she prayed he didn’t recognize her and leaned back into the wall wishing she could fade into the wood-grained veneer and become invisible. The last time she saw Mr. Lewis she’d been a sobbing fool, barely able to form a coherent thought. She remembered little about the ride in his car last night. Had she even thanked him for helping her? She honestly couldn’t remember.
When she left school last night she’d cast Mr. Lewis as a monster. In her naïve and trusting way, she thought a simple face-to-face talk with him would make a difference and might help set the first stones in place along the path of helping Brayden. Instead, she walked away repulsed by his coldness, her heart weeping for Brayden. Deep inside the angry bristled exterior of that little boy was sweetness, starving for love. Mr. Lewis’s reaction had shaken her to the core.
Now she was confused. If he was such an unfeeling and monstrous man then why did he come to her rescue and gift her with a new umbrella this morning? Brayden made it clear his father picked out the umbrella and that kind of thoughtfulness didn’t seem congruent with the monster theory she’d created earlier.
Stacy’s high cackle of laughter filled the elevator car and the three suits looked in her direction. The elevator pinged at the twenty-third floor and everyone filed out. Mr. Lewis and his two companions walked ahead to the entrance of the restaurant. Stacy grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled her toward the banquet room where a large sign outside the door read:
Don’t be Alone For the Holidays
Singles Mixer.
All singles welcome!
Great, Emma thought, as if I’m not feeling desperate and pathetic enough. Now there’s a sign sharing it with everyone who gets off this elevator.
They were almost to the door when Emma stopped. Stacy tugged on her arm, “C’mon Emma. It’s show time.” That’s exactly what this was to Stacy, a show. For the next three hours, she would perform and try to attract the attention of a man. Stacy played her part well. She was one of the most flirtatious, fun-loving people Emma knew. Men were attracted to her and Stacy lavished the attention. She dated scores of men and slept with most of them, but no relationship lasted longer than a month.
“I just need to freshen up first,” Emma said, pulling away from her friend and heading for the narrow corridor that led to the restroom.
* * *
Marcus’s cell phone rang again and he excused himself from the bar to take the call. It was Brayden again. This was the last time he would tell his son to call him anytime, he was taking it entirely too literally. Either that or Rosa, his housekeeper, was putting Brayden up to all the calls. Marcus paid her double to stay with Brayden tonight and still she wasn’t happy about it. He wished the nanny agency would hurry up and find a suitable replacement for the last nitwit they’d sent him.
Rosa was the housekeeper and nanny in the Lewis home when Marcus was a boy. He’d known the woman his entire life, but her days of tending young children were over. She would remind Marcus of this every time he asked her to stay with Brayden, with a shake of her finger before acquiescing.
She was an angel to move to Portland with him and Brayden. The fact that the move would bring her closer to her daughter and grandchildren who moved from Seattle to Portland six years ago was a helpful bargaining chip, but still Marcus knew Rosa had a soft spot in her cranky heart for him and Brayden. She had been with them through the days of losing Vanessa and knew better than anyone the pain he’d suffered.
Brayden was disgruntled about tonight’s arrangement too. When Marcus picked him up from school and told him he’d be staying home with Rosa, the foot stomping began. The bribe of pizza and any movie he wanted on cable hadn’t changed his mood.
“I want to go get ice cream,” Brayden whined through the phone as Marcus ducked into a narrow hallway across from the elevators.
“You know Rosa can’t take you out.” The poor woman injured her knee years ago and walked with a significant limp. Her less than agile body was in no shape to keep up with Brayden outside the confines of the condo.
“But Daaaaaad,” Brayden’s whine trilled.
Marcus rubbed a hand across his forehead. He couldn’t do this now. He needed to get back to the bar and finish making his rounds with the partners. The sooner he put in his appearance the sooner he could leave. He hated these nights when all the partners got together for drinks. Usually he conjured up some excuse to avoid the monthly event, but he owed it to his associates, Dennis and Abigail. They worked hard and deserved a little face time with the partners. Another hour or two and he would have fulfilled his obligation to them.
“Look Bray,” he said, trying to keep the calm in his voice. He leaned against the corner of the wall. “Get your pajamas on, climb into bed and pick a movie. I’ll be home,” he glanced at his watch. “Before it’s over, okay? And we’ll go get ice cream tomorrow, I promise.”
“Fine,” Brayden sighed.
“Now just watch your movie and try not to call me, so I can get my work done and come home, okay?”
“Okay,” Brayden agreed and hung up. Marcus held his phone and stared down at it, hoping it wouldn’t ring again.
“Excuse me,” he heard a woman’s voice behind him. He was blocking the narrow entrance to the small hallway and he stepped aside as a woman in a short black dress tried to slip by.
“Ms. Hewitt?” he said.
She turned and nodded cordially, “Hello.”
“How are you?” he asked, genuinely concerned. He thought of her during the day, recalling the attack from the night before.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she answered.
“I was just talking to Brayden,” he said, indicating the phone in his hand before he dropped it into his pocket.
“Oh,” she replied and shifted uncomfortably. There was silence between them and Marcus felt the need to say something.
“I haven’t looked at that envelope yet.” It was the only thing he could think of to say and he didn’t know why he felt the need to lie about it. He’d looked it over last night as soon as Brayden fell asleep on the bed next to him.
“Oh,” was all she said in response.
“Emma,” someone called and Marcus looked past Ms. Hewitt to see the exotic, cackling woman from the elevator, with her hair on top of her head in a ponytail, I Dream of Jeanie-style. Ms. Hewitt looked over her shoulder.
“I should be getting back,” Marcus said and turned, but stopped when he felt the pressure of Ms. Hewitt’s hand on his arm.
“Wait, Mr. Lewis,” she rushed. “I…I’m sorry I wasn’t myself last night after…” her voice trailed off. “ I just wanted to thank you for helping me last night and for the umbrella.”
He looked down at her hand still o
n his arm and then at her.
“Let’s go girl,” her friend shouted dramatically as she threw her hands up in the air and landed them on her hips. “I’ve got the men lining up in there for you.”
“You’re welcome,” Marcus answered and weaved his way back through the restaurant to the crowded bar.
Chapter Eight
There was a knock at Marcus’s office door.
“Come in,” he called, expecting Gretta with an updated list of their accounts payable. The year was coming to a close and whatever loose ends he didn’t tie up by the end of today he’d have to handle remotely from Seattle. He and Brayden were leaving first thing tomorrow morning.
It was Abigail.
“Quick question,” she said, slinking into his office with a pad of paper and pen in her hand. She wore her long blond hair down today. Marcus hated it when she did that, it reminded him of Vanessa. But it didn’t stop there, everything about her reminded him of Vanessa—the musky smell of her perfume, the way she dressed, and the way she could be so charming and engaging with clients. None of these were bad qualities and if the circumstances were different Marcus may have admired her more than he loathed her. He found it difficult to be in the same room with her for more than thirty seconds and hardly ever worked with her alone.
“What is it?” he asked with heavy impatience.
“On the Crosby matter,” she began.
Marcus rubbed his hand across his upper lip, annoyed. He thought this matter was quiet. The real estate acquisition wasn’t scheduled to close until the middle of next year. What could the issue be now?
“I just received a call from the title company, and they asked me to send them a draft deed for review. Can I draft and send this without your review?”
Can she draft and send this, was she serious? She walked all the way down the hall and knocked on his door to ask if she could draft and send a deed. In her time at the firm, she’d drafted at least a dozen deeds and still, he thought, she needed his go-ahead?